


wherever i'm with you

by Pond_Melody



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot, more of a ficlet really, really really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pond_Melody/pseuds/Pond_Melody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You never make pancakes,” Benji pointed out, “unless there's an occasion. Or someone, like, died.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	wherever i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so short. I usually develop fics more before I publish them, but I needed to write some fluff for my boys and I am impatient today. I hope you enjoy anyway.
> 
> Title excerpt from "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

Will drifted off at around midnight on a Friday night, sleepy and content with an arm curled around Benji, whose face was pressed against his chest. This was normal.

Will woke up on Saturday morning, rested and content with an arm curled around Benji, whose face was pressed against his chest. This was shocking.

He woke up to sunlight streaming through the window of their bedroom, the clock on the nightstand reading ten o'clock in the morning. For the first time in weeks, Will hadn't woken up to Benji screaming in the middle of the night, or to an empty bed only to find him vomiting in the bathroom. No, for the first time in weeks, Will had slept through the night.

For the first time in weeks, _Benji_ had slept through the night.

He'd slept well, too, as far as Will could see, and didn't show signs of waking anytime soon. The dark circles under his eyes that had started to look permanent had lightened significantly, not quite disappearing, but almost. His face was serene, a far cry from the twisted, tearful features that he tried to kiss away on their last night in London and every night since then. Suddenly overwhelmed with love for the man his arms, he pressed a kiss to the top of Beni's head before disentangling himself from his hold and slipping quietly out of bed.

…

“What's the occasion?” Benji yawned as he padded into the kitchen from their bedroom, eyeing the pancakes that were cooking on the stove. Will grinned and flipped a pancake without looking up.

“Why does there need to be an occasion?”

“You never make pancakes,” Benji pointed out, “unless there's an occasion. Or someone, like, died.” He peered over Will's shoulder. “Are those chocolate chip? Did someone actually die?”

“Nobody died, Benj,” Will said.

“Then what's the occasion?”

Will smiled wider and handed Benji a plate of pancakes, which he accepted with a kiss. Will dished out a plate for himself and joined Benji at their table, who was already happily digging in. “The occasion is I love you.”

The occasion was victory, because while Benji saw a peaceful night as a relief and nothing more, Will saw it as an accomplishment that his partner had worked his ass off for. Although Will wanted to say this, wanted to tell Benji how proud he was of all the progress he'd made, he didn't. Benji was self-conscious about his post-traumatic stress as it was, and so Will kept his mouth shut and let his cooking do the talking.

“You're a dork,” Benji snorted.

He hoped that last night would be the first of many.


End file.
